Excerpt: Involves Tomatoes

These two excerpts are slightly related - the first helps make sense of a comment in the second! Two lighter moments from earlier in my novel.

I pressed my back up against the wall of the corridor and swore quietly under my breath. Once more I had managed to do something stupid, and once more I was within about 3 yards or maybe 30 odd seconds of being discovered in the act by the most attractive man in a 10 mile radius.

I was lucky that Jay always seemed to be whistling, humming or singing to himself; his pleasant baritone had announced his progress along the corridor in time for me to have a chance at creeping back along to my room and retrieving my spare key before he spotted me in my less than flattering flannel pyjamas.

One of the problems of living in such an old building, one that was in fact a couple of houses knocked together, was that sometimes, as now, it was hard to tell which direction a person was approaching from, or how far away they were. I sidled along the hallway, reaching my door with a gasp of relief, and fumbled for the key.

So far I’d managed to avoid being introduced to Jay, although I’d seen him several times from a distance. Various neighbours and locals had filled me in on the details; Jay short for Jon short for Jonathan (even from this I could guess Jay suffered from the same sort of name dyslexia I did); 34, single, owner of a small but highly successful business doing something vaguely hi tech and entrepreneurial with computers – I hadn’t even pretended to understand exactly what that was, but then no one else seemed terribly sure either. Friendly, attractive, universally liked, basically, the local eligible bachelor and unofficial winner of the “Potential Boyfriend Most Likely to Prove Acceptable to One’s Mother” prize hereabouts.

The tone in which this information had been passed on had varied considerably depending on the source. Mr Docherty, for example, had brusquely informed me one day that Jay had painted their lounge, contributed every year to the local arts festival, and that he was a fine lad and that it was “a bit of a shame that no one around these parts deserved such a decent fella”; the small print of course being clarified in the look Mr D shot me, which informed me in no uncertain terms that if I thought I deserved a chance with Jay then I was sorely mistaken.

Mrs D, on the other hand, had made sure I knew Jay’s flat number, phone number and marital status within 6 hours of officially moving in, and I was sure from the reproachful looks she gave me when Jay’s name was dropped into conversation that she couldn’t fathom why I hadn’t used my feminine wiles to snare the man already. I sometimes wondered if they ever talked about me; and if they did, how they reconciled their wildly differing opinions, or whether they, like so many of the other elderly couples I’d known, each got by quite happily by never bothering to notice, never mind listen to, a word the other one said.

Even though I’d so far avoided the acquaintance, the fact was I already knew the likely outcome; even without the extra edge of nerves settling into my new home had given me, I had long ago come to the sad conclusion that any feminine wiles I possessed were so deeply hidden as to be almost entirely useless; having spied Jay from afar I had realised that, although not especially handsome, he enjoyed the kind of easy charm and slow, melting smile that would reduce me to a gibbering wreck in seconds. I had promptly decided I’d rather putting off making a total fool of myself for as long as I could manage.

Of course, me being the lucky kind of person that I am, I thought, it would be typical that the first time we spoke I would be wearing Winnie the Pooh nightclothes.

I breathed a prayer of thanks as I finally got the door open, and was slipping through it with a grin of triumph when a cheery voice called out “Hi!”

I had half a second to hide my Pooh-clad body behind the door and poke my head back round; I could only hope that the sheer speed at which I had entered my flat had rendered Eeyore and Piglet too blurry to be recognised.

“Hi,” I mumbled, trying not to look too bashful about my attire and hoping he had missed the sight of my flannelette clad backside.

“Hi, I’m Jay, I don’t think we’ve met,” he announced cheerfully, holding out a hand to be shaken, apparently unaware of both my pjs and my extreme embarrassment.

I mumbled something non committal and submitted to a warm, firm handshake from his large, manly hand that only confirmed my fears about his general extreme attractiveness.

I mumbled something non committal and submitted to a warm, firm handshake from his large, manly hand that only confirmed my fears about his general extreme attractiveness.

He smiled that warm, slightly off centre smile at me. Fwibble, I thought to myself, eloquent as ever. I could feel my brain turning to cream cheese and was relieved and (to my annoyance) slightly disappointed when he made a comment about the weather and continued on his way.

I closed the door and slumped against it, eyes closed, letting out a small growl of frustration. I had fully expected my first encounter with Jay to be hideously, uncompromisingly embarrassing, but it had never in my worst nightmares occurred to me that it would occur under the auspices of the bear of very little brain.

Eventually I shook myself and plodded towards my bedroom. Dwelling on it would not improve matters, so as it was a fine, sunny Saturday, I decided to take solace in my garden instead.

***

I peeked around the plaster mouldings that had been thoughtfully constructed at intervals along the corridor, and then hurriedly ducked back into my small but perfectly formed hiding place.

So far this morning I’d already almost bumped into Mr Docherty twice; I could tell, even from a distance, that he was in a grumpy mood and I had really, really not wanted to be the subject of one of his lectures or harangues. There’s only so much a girl can take of being told about the state of young people today (I tried to take it as a compliment that the old man clearly assumed I was about eighteen) before starting to feel guilty, and after a couple of near misses in the garden and one unlucky encounter at the post boxes in the last few days I was keen to avoid him if I could.

This, however, was far more serious. In the interests of a much needed lie-in, I had decided that washing my hair on my half day off was really not necessary. It had seemed a good idea at the time, gaining me a precious half hour longer of rest, and I had set off for the afternoon at work in much better spirits than the prospect of yet more data entry usually merits.

Now, having spotted Jay a-wandering, I was cursing myself for my lack of foresight. I wasn’t used to other people keeping the same strange hours as I did, but of course he was his own man, running his own business, and it should have occurred to me, I told myself for the hundredth time, that there was every chance of running into him unexpectedly during the day.

I knew I really shouldn’t be this bothered, but after the Pooh debacle I really desperately wanted my next encounter with the man to be at a time when I wasn’t feeling like the unwashed detritus of a particularly hedonistic party. Especially when I had no such “I’m a party animal and I had a rough night” cool excuse to explain away my bedraggled appearance.

I fiddled with bits of my hair, just in case, and listened carefully: it sounded as if there was no one around, and Jay’s telltale humming had receded gradually into the distance, but I couldn’t help feeling a little paranoid.

“What are you doing?” a voice murmured in my ear and to my mortification I actually screamed.

I span around, both relieved and cross to see it was only Alfie.

“I thought I told you not to creep up on me!” I squeaked indignantly.

He grinned and shrugged. “Sorry,” he said, unrepentant. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I scowled at him. “Well, you did.”

He attempted to look contrite. It didn’t suit him.

I glared at him and poked my ahead around the pillar again. The coast appeared to be clear, and I let my shoulders droop down from the tense position they had been maintaining somewhere around my ears.

“Were you hiding from somebody?” he asked, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

I wondered quite how I could get out of this one without utterly embarrassing myself. Something told me it was going to be a little tricky. It was only Alfie, at least, who I often suspected probably got into at least as many scrapes as I did, but I still didn’t actually want him to know quite how pathetic I was capable of being. He would, I was sure, have plenty of opportunities to find out; but I didn’t want it to be today.

Salvation turned up in the form the sounds of Mrs Docherty chatting with a couple of her friends as she came in through the front door; my memory finally kicked into gear.

“I was, um, avoiding Mr Docherty. He seemed like he was in a bad mood.”

He studied my face for a moment, and then bit his lip, the tension at the sides of his mouth making me think that he was trying hard to suppress another grin. I wondered with a sinking heart if it was really so very obvious that I wasn’t telling the whole story.

“Right. I see. Well, I think the coast is clear, now.” There was a sparkle in his eyes which I didn’t know how to interpret, but I looked up the hallway and besides the retreating stick figures that were Mrs D and her cronies, there didn’t seem to be anyone about.

“OK. Thanks,” I muttered, realising as I said it that I didn’t really know quite what it was that I was thanking him for.

He nodded, pressing his mouth firmly closed, and I was certain he was doing his best not to laugh at something. I gave him a half hearted grin and left him to whatever was so amusing, grateful at least that he had kept his laughter to himself, even if he had guessed that it wasn’t really Mr Docherty that I had felt such an urgent need to avoid. It was a small comfort, but it was, I decided, all I was going to get.

I emerged blinking into the sunshine, reminding myself that I had, at least, achieved my objective and had not bumped into Jay. If I could only keep avoiding him until a time when I looked less like I hadn’t slept for a week, I would have to be happy with that. In the meantime, I was relieved to be heading to work.

“And,” I reminded myself, as I headed off down the road, “it’s not too often that I can say that.”